Merry Christmas, everyone! In honor of the occassion, I revised a lot of my old Christmas fic, Santa’s Little Helper. It has the same plot, but is so much better, in my opinion. Enjoy, I hope!
“Shhh,” the strange girl breathed.
He stood stock still, transfixed by her appearance. She had pointed ears, or she had made quite an effort to create this illusion. She was only about half a foot taller than him, and yet her proportions were like to those of an adult. But what fascinated him the most were her eyes: the left hazel, and the right blue; a perfect mirror of his brother’s.
“Who…” he began, his voice filled not with fear, but wonder. The girl smiled, the firelight dancing in her eyes. She bent down on one knee, resting one arm on her knee and holding the other out to point at the eccentric Christmas tree behind him.
“I’m one of Santa’s elves,” she whispered, secretively glancing from one end of the room to the other. Her eyes met his again, and her grin grew broader.
“And you,” she poked the tip of his tiny nose, “must be Myles.”
His eyes widened. Santa’s elf? That wasn’t possible. He had done research on the subject, and the existance of such a being was simply impossible. He had found conclusive, logical evidence that it was physically impossible to circle the globe in one night, and that was leaving out the factor of the miraculous flying reindeer. Beckett, of course, ever the childish twin, had refused to believe his research held any credibility. It hadn’t surprised him; the boy still believed babies came from a stork. No, the reaction that had caught him off guard had been his older brother’s.
“You can only be a child for so long,” Artemis had told him with a sad smile. This had confused Myles. What did that have to do with anything? Artemis was supposed to be the sane brother, and yet he refused to deny the existance of Santa Claus in front of the twins, even with scientific evidence. The fact that the genius had not denied the man’s existance had almost been enough to shake his belief (or lack thereof). And now, on top of that, this girl was sitting in his living room, pointed ears and all, and claiming to be an elf.
“How do you know my name?” he asked cautiously, taking a step back. The girl grinned again.
“Santa told me,” she answered quietly. She pointed up to the roof. “You’ve probably heard some lies about the big man coming down your chimney and leaving presents?”
Myles nodded dumbly. Her smile broadened.
“Well, that’s all hype.” She straightened up. “Truth is, kid, Saint Lazy up there stays in the sleigh and sends us elves down to do all the real work.” She winked. “But don’t tell Chubby I said that.”
Myles raised one eyebrow, trying to imitate his brother’s most skeptical expression.
“Prove to me you’re with Santa,” he demanded, placing his tiny toddler hands on his hips. She smiled again. He half wished she’d stop doing that.
“Myles Fowl?” she said slowly, drawing a piece of paper from behind her back. She held it out to him. He took it, and as he read, his eyes widened. It was his Christmas list. The one he had made sure to email instead of give to his mother, hoping to prove to Beckett that Santa Mom was the real gift giver.
“Now, you wanted a new chemistry set, yeah?” she asked. At his silence, she extended a hand and snatched some invisible material from thin air. Myles’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. It was the most beautiful set he had ever seen. It was perfect; maybe even better than his brother’s!
“Now go back to bed,” the girl instructed. He nodded quickly, scurrying down the hallway and up the stairs to his room, thoughts he had never even considered racing through his head. He was more excited for Christmas morning than he ever had been before. After all, Santa had come!
As soon as she heard an upstairs door slam shut, the girl turned around to face the vacant couch, which was suddenly not as empty.
“Thank you,” the boy sitting on the leather sofa said sincerely, rising and stepping towards her.
“Eh, it was nothing,” she replied with a wink. The boy shook his head, holding up a hand.
“You gave him a chance to be a child. That is a precious thing,” he argued as he stopped just inches away from her.
“I told you,” she said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear, “it was nothing.”
He reached one slim hand down and tilted her chin up to look towards him. She smiled, raising one eyebrow.
“What are you doing, Mudboy?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly from laughter.
His only answer came in the form of a glance upwards. She followed his gaze up to the high ceiling and groaned.
“Really, Artemis?” she asked, sounding tired even through her sarcasm. “Mistletoe?”
He looked back down at her. She met his gaze.
“You’ve been standing under it for the past five minutes,” he informed her, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his lips.
She smiled slightly at the look on his face, wondering what exactly he meant to do. The confident shell had underlying traces of panic, and his smirk was not quite as smug as it could have been. She didn’t move, letting him make up his mind, wanting to see what he would do. Of course, he had caught her under the mistletoe, but surely he didn’t have the courage to kiss her…